EVELYN: You must have a name.

DOCTOR: Sometimes it seems like I must. At those times I become yet another member of the great Smith clan. Doctor John Smith, in fact. But as I am going to save your life, you can call me The Doctor. And the sooner I get started, the better.

DOCTOR: What would you say if I were to tell you that I once destroyed an entire race? That I have led friends to their deaths, and caused numerous wars? That my intervention has led to peaceful races taking up arms, and good people having their faith or reason destroyed? Or because I failed to act, millions upon millions of people have been enslaved or killed? What if I had done all those things, but had always, always believed I was doing the right thing?

EVELYN: You seem to have a gift for getting things wrong. 'Miracle of temporal engineering', you said.

DOCTOR: The TARDIS is an exceptionally fine craft!

EVELYN: With a lousy sense of timing. So much for visiting Queen Elisabeth! She doesn’t come to the throne for another three years!

DOCTOR: My dear Doctor Smythe, the universe exists for billions upon billions of years, and is bigger than your human brain can ever dream of comprehending. And it’s not even the only one in existence! To be able to travel to a certain planet, in a certain century, is a feat greater than any your race has ever achieved, and to reach the right city in the right decade, that’s an unbelievably skilled piece of work. And you complain about a mere three years?

EVELYN: Those three years almost got me killed.

EVELYN: Anyway, what was it that the Queen said that upset you? I thought you conquered her with your bedside manner! She seemed happy enough with you when I left.

DOCTOR: She was. So happy with me, in fact, that she has decided to give me a gift!

EVELYN: What’s so bad about that?

DOCTOR: The particular gift she has in mind is a wife!

EVELYN: (laughs) Goodness me! Anyone we know?

DOCTOR: Her lady in waiting, Sarah.

CROW: Oh, you’ve a fine prize there, Doctor! All of London knows that Sarah Whiteside is a pretty young thing.

DOCTOR: I don’t care how pretty she is, I am not going to marry her.

SARAH: Are you married, Doctor?

DOCTOR: Alas, I have yet to attain that happy state.

SARAH: Never fear. I know many women who take husbands much greater than them in years. It is not yet too late.

DOCTOR: Well, that’s a comforting thought.

SARAH: Indeed, there are many advantages to marrying an older man. Their wisdom and experience is so much greater than that of mere boys, I think. And—

DOCTOR: I’m sure you’re right, but I think perhaps Doctors ought not to marry. They should devote their time to the common good, like priests, don’t you think?